Forever Begins Today
by The Fallen Sky
Summary: Clark does something drastic and needs someone to save him.  Chloe is that someone.


Title: Forever Begins Today

Author: The Fallen Sky

Rating: T

Pairing: Chlark

Summary: Clark does something drastic and needs someone to save him. Chloe is that someone.

Warning: This story deals with suicide.

A/N: This is my first fanfic. It's told from Chloe's POV and takes place in early season 10. Oliver was never kidnapped. He and Chloe are together. Clark and Lois broke up.

* * *

Panic. It grips every fiber of my being as I sit bolt upright from a sound sleep. Something is terribly wrong, but I have no idea what.

I look at my sleeping boyfriend, he seems perfectly fine and unaffected by my sudden wakefulness. My mind is still cloudy from sleep, but I know that I have to be somewhere. Immediately, I'm out of bed and racing to put on some clothes. I don't bother trying to look good, so I grab the first things I can get my hands on. Once I'm decent, I grab my car keys, and I'm out the door.

I'm on the highway pushing 100 mph. The radio is playing some pop song, but I don't really hear it. All I can hear is my heart pounding in my chest. I should be worried about being pulled over, but all I'm worried about is going faster. Where ever I'm going, I need to get there, now. A feeling of dread surrounds me like a tightly wrapped blanket, and the longer it takes to get to where I'm going, the tighter it gets. I feel like I'm being squeezed to death. I literally have trouble breathing. I tell myself to calm down, that I'm going as fast as I can. But I know it's not fast enough. I push harder on the accelerator, and pray I'm not too late.

By the time I pull onto the dirt drive, I realize where I've been going. A place I know better than any other on earth. At least, I used to. Sure, I've been here recently, but I used to come here all the time. You could say it was my home away from home. It used to feel like home, anyway. The people who lived here were as much my family as any I've ever known. Now, only one of those people is still here, but I don't know what he is to me anymore. We used to be best friends, maybe we were even more than that, or could have been, but that seems like a lifetime ago. We don't really talk anymore. We barely see each other, except when there's hero business to take care of. A wave of sadness and regret threatens to wash over me, but the dread and panic I've been feeling is demanding that I get my ass moving.

The entire place is dark. I don't even know if he's here, except I'm certain that he is. I forgo the house and make my way into the barn. Bounding up the steps, I reach the loft and stop short. It's really dark in here. I should turn on some lights, but I don't have the time. The moon is full tonight, and its light provides enough illumination for me to see. A quick scan of the room reveals a figure lying prone on the floor. As my eyes continue to adjust to the dimness, I can see that it is, in fact, him. I briefly wonder why he would by lying on the floor of the loft, but something catches my attention, and the reason for my panic and subsequent trip becomes abundantly clear.

His right hand is resting on his chest, but his hand isn't empty. A sickly green glow seeps between his fingers, and that's why he's lying on the floor. I jump into action, and pry that damned rock from his grasp and throw it out the window. I'm standing over him waiting for him to recover so I can ask him what the hell is going on, but he isn't recovering. Normally, he just pops right up after the kryptonite is far enough away that it no longer affects him, but he hasn't moved since I got here. I call his name and shake him with my foot, but he doesn't respond. As I crouch down next to him, I see that his skin is tinted the same color as the rock I threw away minutes before. I notice that his chest isn't rising and falling, and I check for a pulse, but I can't find one.

Shock paralyzes me momentarily, but I shake it off. Before I know it, I'm giving him chest compressions and breathing my breath into him in the hope that I can revive him. I continue giving him CPR for, minutes, days, hours, I don't really know. Time has ceased to exist. It's just me and the man I'm trying to save. I'm remarkably calm considering the circumstances. The mantra, please wake up, repeats in my mind on an endless loop. In fact, I repeat it so often it's become more of a prayer. But the longer I do this, the more hopeless I feel.

At some point, I realize he's not coming back. And it hits me like a ton of bricks. I stop pressing my hands into his chest and breathing my breath into his lungs. I just stop. I'm sitting on top of him, straddling his stomach. I'm sitting on my best friend. I'm sitting on my dead best friend. He's dead. He's really dead. I couldn't save him.

* * *

I don't know how long I've been sitting here, just staring at him. My mind just went blank. I still haven't fully comprehended what's happened. I wonder who would have done this to him. I know that there's a very long list of people who would love to see him dead, but there's no sign of a struggle, and I know he wouldn't go down without a fight. Then, a strange and terrible thought occurs to me. It's so incomprehensible, that it makes me physically ill to even entertain the notion of thinking it. What if he killed himself?

The more I roll it over in my mind, the more it makes sense. He's been increasingly distant, especially since Lois broke up with him. Even I was surprised when she told me that she couldn't be with him because of whom and what he is. I was extremely disappointed in her for that, but it was her choice. Shortly after their breakup, he started going on more and more patrols. Then, earlier this week, I found out that he had been fired from the Daily Planet. It's so obvious. He was falling apart right in front of me, and I didn't even notice.

Part of me is riddled with guilt. How could I not have seen this coming? How did things get so bad between us that I didn't notice he was teetering on the brink? What kind of person am I that I didn't even bother to stop by to see how he was doing? The more I question my lack of caring and concern for his wellbeing, the more I hate myself. If I had just put aside my own pride and hurt, maybe he wouldn't have done this. Maybe if he knew that I still care about him, he would still be alive.

My guilt is powerful, but there's something else bubbling up inside of me. Anger. The more I think about this, the angrier I get. In fact, my anger grows so rapidly and with such ferocity, that it's gone past anger and is now something else entirely. Hatred. I hate that he killed himself. I hate that I had to find him. I hate that I couldn't save him. I hate _him_.

That last thought shocks me. I have never hated him before in my life. Not when he overlooked me. Not when he lied to me. Not when he tried to keep me on the sidelines. Not even when he turned his back on me. It's hard to believe, but despite all of the terrible things he's done to me, whether under the guise of good intentions or not, I've never been able to hate him. I've felt seemingly everything under the sun for him, at one time or another, but I've never felt hatred, and certainly, I've never felt it so strongly.

The darkened silence around me is broken by the sound of me yelling. It's stupid, I know. He's dead, he can't hear me. But I'm just so filled with rage, that I can't control myself. I yell at him for being so selfish. I yell at him for being a coward. I yell at him for being weak. I yell at him for abandoning his mother. I yell at him for abandoning every person that he could have saved. I yell at him for abandoning me.

That's what finally breaks my tirade. The fact that he abandoned me stops me short. I know I'm still upset about everything else I yelled at him for, but this is the only one that truly hurts me. Sure, he walked away from me months ago, but I never really thought it was permanent. I always held out hope that, one day, he'd walk back into my life, and we could get back to what we were, or, at least, be friends again. Now that he's dead, there's no hope that we could ever be anything again. He's gone. He's gone, and he's never coming back. I'm alone. He left me, and I'm all alone.

My anger and hate have drained away, and I feel completely exhausted. The sad reality of the situation has finally sunk in. I'm crying. My tears fall on his face as I lean over him. I move my hands from his chest and run them through his hair, gently caressing him. Slowly, I move my hands from his hair to his face. I touch every part of it, his brow, his nose, his chin, his lips. I think I'm trying to burn him into my memory with my hands.

Sobs are causing me to shake. My eyes are so full of tears, I can't see. I find that I can't keep myself upright. I begin to slide downward until my body is lying flush with his. I bury my face in his neck. His scent permeates my senses, and I'm suddenly very tired. I don't know if I can sleep, but I know that I can't stay awake. As I drift towards unconsciousness, I feel as if I'm drowning. Good. Maybe I'll drown in my grief, and we'll be together again, in death.

It's strange. Just before I lose myself to oblivion, I could swear that I see a brilliant white light. It's everywhere. I can almost feel it surrounding me, flowing through me. For a moment, I wonder what it could be, but the moment passes quickly, and I'm alone in the dark, again.

* * *

I wake up suddenly. I don't know where I am, but I know I'm not in my bed. Oliver's not beside me either. Then I remember. The loft. Clark. Clark's body. Clark is dead. As I regain my faculties, I notice that I'm not in the loft. I'm not lying on top of Clark. In fact, Clark is gone. I'm lying in a grassy field. Slowly, I get to my feet and take in my surroundings. All I see is a sea of green covered by a canopy of brilliant blue sky. I have no idea where I am, but this place is beautiful.

While I don't know where I am or why I'm here, something compels me to start walking. So, I take off in no particular direction and just walk. After…well, I don't know how long I've been here, but after a while I finally see someone in the distance. They're too far away for me to tell who it is, but someone is better than no one, so I head in their direction, hoping they can help me, or at the very least, give me some answers.

As I get closer, I can see that it's a woman I'm approaching. I call out to her, but she ignores me. Once I'm face to face with her, she finally looks at me. Somehow, she _feels_ familiar to me. I know that sounds strange, but strange is kinda normal for me.

"Excuse me, but do you know where we are?" My question doesn't seem to register with her. "I'm lost, and I was hoping you could help me find my way."

She doesn't respond. She just stands there looking at me. I wonder why she won't answer me, but something tells me I'm asking the wrong questions.

"My name's Chloe, what's yours?" Still no response. This is getting frustrating, but I need answers, so I try again.

"Why are you here?" That seems to have done the trick.

Her face brightens at my query, and she answers simply, "He couldn't save me."

OK, now I'm really confused. "Who couldn't save you?"

Again, she says, "He couldn't save me."

Alright, I'm not only confused, but I'm starting to get annoyed. "Who is _he_?"

"He couldn't save me."

God! Does she know any other words? Calm down Chloe. Just try again. "Do you know _where_ he is?"

She turns and points at a place in the distance. When I look, all I see is more green, but I'm obviously not going to get anything else out of her, so I head off in the direction she's pointing and hope I'll find what I'm looking for.

After a while, I see someone else. Check that, I see many someone elses. Ahead of me is a mass of people, men, women, children, people of all ages and nationalities. I have no idea what they're doing here, but they're standing in one massive cluster, and it just seems to be getting bigger and bigger.

Something tells me I'm going to regret this, but I ask anyway. "Why are you here?"

Sure enough, one by one, they all give the same answer. "He couldn't save me."

I just want to scream, but I settle for an exasperated sigh. "I wish I knew who _he_ is and where I could find him." I mutter under my breath.

Apparently, I didn't mutter low enough, because someone answers me. "You already know who he is."

When I look up, I see someone I never thought I'd see again, let alone expect to see in a place like this. It's been years, but I'd know her anywhere. I run to her and throw my arms around her. "Mom."

"Mom, what are you doing here? Where _is_ here? What is this place?" I have so many questions.

"This is Wonderland, and you're Alice." She says with a huge smile on her face.

Are you kidding me? "That's not funny."

Still smiling, she replies, "Maybe not, but you look like you could use some cheering up."

Thinking of Clark I respond somberly, "If you only knew."

"But I do know. In fact, everyone here knows."

"Mom, you're not making any sense."

She gives me her best motherly look and continues. "Chloe, you're here because you lost him, and you want to find him."

"How do you know about…?"

"About Clark?" I nod, and she continues. "Honey, this place," she makes a sweeping gesture with her hand, "_is_ Clark."

If I was lost before, now I'm in that special place where lost goes to be alone.

When she sees my bewildered expression, she explains. "This whole place, this is Clark. I guess you could call it his mind, but that's only part of it. It's more like his essence. It's all of his thoughts and feelings and experiences and memories all rolled into one."

"So, you're saying that this place is like a physical representation of Clark?"

"Exactly."

"Then who are all of these people?"

Her expression changes from upbeat to somber in an instant. "These are all the people he couldn't save."

"I'm not following."

"Chloe, I know that Clark is special. And I know that he uses his gifts to try to save people. I also know that he doesn't always succeed."

I should be worried that my mom knows Clark's secret, but somehow, I don't think it really matters. Still, what does Clark failing to save people have to do with any of this?

Without skipping a beat, she continues. "Every person here is someone that Clark failed to save."

I don't know if it's possible, but my confused brain has reached a new level of dysfunction. "What do you mean everyone here is someone Clark failed to save?"

Putting her arm around my shoulders, she tries to explain the situation. "Chloe, you know that Clark feels a great deal of responsibility for the people in his life. He also feels that he's responsible for everyone in Smallville, Metropolis, maybe even the entire world. He feels it's his duty to protect them. When he can't, or he fails to do so, he carries the weight of that failure with him. Each person here represents someone he couldn't save."

Suddenly, it all makes sense. "So, you're saying that each person I see is a representation of a real person that he feels he failed?"

"Now you're getting it." She says with a small smile.

I get that Clark has always had this notion that all the bad things in the world are either his fault or his duty to rectify, but carrying around the ghosts of all of the people he thinks he failed is just ridiculous. No one can be responsible for an entire planet. The guilt of all of this must have been devastating, and…and that's why he killed himself. He couldn't shoulder his perceived burden anymore.

As I come to grips with the enormity of the situation, a thought occurs to me. "If everyone here represents one of Clark's failures, what are _you_ doing here?"

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at me as if the answer is obvious. But that's just crazy.

"You can't be serious, Mom. What happened to you had nothing to do with Clark."

She says simply, "He doesn't think so."

I shouldn't be surprised that Clark blames himself for what happened to my mother, but I am. If he were anyone else, I'd say he's got one massive ego, but he's Clark, and beating himself up over things beyond his control is probably his greatest super power.

Although I'd love to stay and chat with my mother, there's something I need to do. Someone I need to find. "Do you know where he is? Can you help me find him?"

Without a word, she leads me away from the crowd of people. Since I haven't taken my eyes off her, I don't notice that the landscape has changed. When I finally do look to see where we're going, I notice that we're approaching a small hill.

Instantly, my heart speeds up, and my hopes climb into the clouds. Atop the hill, sits a lone figure clad in red and blue. He's facing away from us, so I can't actually tell if it's him, but I know with every fiber of my being, it is.

I take several more steps before I realize that my mother isn't taking them with me. As I turn to ask why she isn't coming, she gives me a sad look.

"I hope things work out for you, both of you." She says solemnly.

"Please, come with me." I plead.

"I'm sorry. But I can't."

"But why?"

She smiles serenely and replies, "He couldn't save me."

I stand there for a moment and watch as she retreats back to the crowd of lost souls. A wave of sadness washes over me, but I shrug it off. I'm here for a reason, and it's sitting on top of that hill.

* * *

He doesn't seem to notice me as I walk slowly toward him. He makes no move to acknowledge my presence as I ease myself down onto the grass next to him. When I turn my head to look at him, I see that he's just staring off into the distance. I briefly wonder if he can even see me. Maybe, I don't exist to him in this place.

I'm about to say something, but he beats me to it. "You shouldn't be here."

Well, that's a fine how do you do. "It's nice to see you too." I say, a hint of sarcasm and hurt in my voice.

Apparently, he picks up the emotion in my voice, because he turns to me and says with remorse, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cold. It's just…"

There's something he wants to say, but he's struggling to decide whether he should or not. I hope he'll just come out and tell me what's bothering him, but in typical Clark fashion, he brushes it off. "…nothing."

He looks at me for a moment more, before he turns his attention back to the open expanse of green in front of us.

Well, I didn't come here just so he could shut me out, again. "I know it's not _nothing_, Clark. There's obviously something bothering you, otherwise you wouldn't have…" I trail off before I can say it. I think we both know what he did, but I feel that if I say it, this place might crumble and vanish, and I'll wake up in the loft with Clark's body. I'm not ready to face that.

After a pause, I try to continue. "Look, I know things haven't been great between us for a while, but I still care about you. I never stopped caring. I don't know how or why we're both here, in this place, but I think it's for a reason. Please, just tell me what's going on."

As I finish, I place my hand lightly on his shoulder, hoping to convey my sincerity about what I've just said.

We sit here, silently, for a long moment. I'm starting to doubt that he'll actually open up to me. Then, he turns to me, his face a mask of shame and sorrow. His look nearly brings me to tears. I just want to wrap him in my arms, and never let him go, but he breaks the silence and the moment.

"I really screwed up, didn't I?" He pauses briefly, and I wonder if I'm supposed to say something, but before I can, he continues. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I'm not exactly sure what he's apologizing for, but I assume it's for killing himself. "Clark…"

He cuts me off with a raised hand. "Don't, OK, just don't. I know that killing myself was the coward's way out. I should have talked to someone, tried to work through my problems. But, I didn't have anyone to talk to."

I'm ready to point out that he could have talked to his mother, to Oliver, even to me, but he doesn't give me the opportunity.

"I know that there are people that would have listened and tried to help, but they could never understand what I'm going through. And I know that sounds cliché, but I'm not your average person, and my problems aren't average either. Besides, I created most of my own problems anyway."

He gives me a wan smile as he says, "You know, my mother was right. I always do what's best for everyone else. I never do what's best for me. Maybe if I had, just once, things would have turned out a lot different, and we wouldn't be here right now."

"Clark, we all have regrets. You just can't let them consume you. You have to accept that what's happened is past and try not to make the same mistakes in the future."

"But what if your mistake is so huge, that the future isn't worth living in?"

That's an interesting question. I don't know how to answer that. "I'm not sure any mistake can be so devastating that it renders the future pointless."

"You haven't seen _my_ future."

There's that ego again. "Clark, I have seen the future, or at least, one version of it, and it was pretty bleak. But once we knew what the problem was, we were able to find a way to change it. I'm sure there must be a way to change _your_ future."

"In the short term, yes, but ultimately, my future will always turn out the same. Whether it's a year from now, or a thousand years from now, my future is empty."

"How can you be so sure? No one knows what's going to happen tomorrow, or the next day. How do you know that your future will be empty?"

I can see the sadness and despair in his eyes. He really believes what he's saying. I ask again, "How do you know?"

"Because I've seen it. I see it every day. Every time I close my eyes, I see the emptiness."

What am I supposed to say to that? Fortunately, I don't have to say anything, because he's talking again.

"Do you remember when everyone in Smallville was trapped in their worst nightmare by that toxic gas?" I nod. "Remember what I said when you asked me what my worst nightmare was?"

"You said your nightmare was when you woke up, and everyone you loved was gone. You were completely alone."

"That's what my future is. Being completely alone."

I feel terrible for him, thinking he's going to be alone. I can't believe that he'd ever be alone. I want desperately to assuage his fears, but I don't know how. What could I possibly say to make this better?

"You know, I used to like coming here." Wow. He's changed direction so fast, I feel like I've got whiplash.

He sees my look of confusion and disbelief, and smiles. "It's true. This used to be the one place I could go that made me feel better about just about anything."

"Of course, that was before I…" Suddenly, his mood sinks. "…Before I screwed everything up."

"I'm not following."

"Well, you've seen the ghosts of failures past. And I've told you about my haunted future. But this spot, right where we're sitting, used to be an island of hope."

"So what happened? Why isn't it still an island of hope?"

He turns away before speaking. "This is where you used to be."

OK, I didn't see that coming. I'm so shocked, I feel like someone has just sucker-punched me. "Where I used to be?"

"Believe it or not, but whenever life was kicking my ass or I was feeling like a total failure, you would be here to cheer me up. You'd tell me that no matter how bad things got or how badly I screwed up, you would always be here for me. You made me believe in myself. You gave me hope. You gave me hope that maybe I wasn't going to end up alone. But the real world changed things."

"Changed things how?"

"You started to pull away from me. You had a real life, a normal life that didn't involve me. And every time you helped me or stood by me, you suffered for it. It wasn't just you either. The people you cared about, they suffered too. It seemed that the more you clung to me, the more pain I caused you."

"I couldn't keep hurting you like that. I didn't want to lose you, but I knew I couldn't hold onto you either. So, I decided it would be better for you if you stayed away from me. That's why I turned my back on you. That's why I walked away."

Again, I'm shocked. You'd think I'd have had enough shocks lately that it couldn't keep happening, but you'd be wrong.

"So, to keep from hurting me, you decided it was best to hurt me more than I've ever been hurt in my life? God! You're such an idiot!"

I see him flinch at my harsh words, and I immediately regret saying them. I want to help him, not justify his reasons for doing what he's done. "I'm sorry, Clark. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just, that logic of yours could use some schooling."

My apology seems to have been accepted. His mouth curves ever so slightly into a grin.

"It's OK, I had that coming."

Now that the situation has been defused, I'm anxious to hear more. "So, once you ditched me in the real world, what happened here?"

"You were gone."

I was expecting something a little more grandiose than that. "That's it? I was just gone?"

He nods. "Apparently, out of life equals out of mind."

Interesting. I mull that over for a while then a thought occurs to me. "What about Lois?"

That seems to surprise him. And his reaction surprises me. If this place is filled with hope, then why wasn't Lois here? Why didn't she take my place after Clark left me behind?

"Well, that's complicated." I can see that he's about to tell me an interesting tale. "I think I should start with the Daily Planet. As I said, you had a life outside of me, and your being around me had consequences. One of those consequences was you losing your dream job. I felt terrible that you got fired because you were friends with me. I wanted to give the dream of working as a reporter at the Planet back to you, but I couldn't. So, when I had the chance to work there myself, I took it. I thought that I could live that dream for you."

"Later, after we parted ways, I didn't want to work there anymore. I felt like I was betraying you by living a dream that you had had since you were a little girl, because I had taken so much from you and hurt you so many times. But when I thought of leaving, I felt sick. Literally, I felt sick to my stomach. Since I didn't have you in my life anymore, at least, not the way I wanted, I viewed the Daily Planet as the next best thing. Being there made me feel connected to you."

I have to admit, his wanting to live my dream for me is kinda sweet, but that still doesn't explain Lois, and that's exactly what I tell him. "That doesn't explain Lois."

At the mention of Lois, he looks increasingly guilty. "See, the thing is I missed you. I mean, I really missed you. But I told myself that you were better off without me. That's when I noticed Lois."

Something tells me I'm not gonna like where this is going.

"I didn't really like her at first, but then, you already knew that. It's just, the more time I spent with her, the more I got to know her. And the more I got to know her, the more she…"

He hesitates for a long moment. I can see that he doesn't really want to say what he's about to say, so I try to nudge him. "The more she…what?"

"The more she reminded me of you."

There's shame in his voice as he says that. I'm not sure if he's ashamed that he was reminded of me, or if he's ashamed that it was me he was thinking of when he was with Lois. Either way, I'm shocked again.

"So she reminded you of me. That makes sense, after all, we _are_ cousins. What's the big deal?"

"Chloe, I wasn't interested in Lois because she reminded me of you. I was interested in her because she was the closest I was ever going to get to having you but not _actually_ having you."

What? Did he just say what I think he just said? "Clark, what are you saying?"

He turns away from me. "I never really wanted to be with Lois. I wanted to be with you."

Have I mentioned that I've had a lot of shocking things happen to me today? Of all the things he could have told me, I never, ever, expected to hear this. "You…wanted to be with…me?"

Instead of speaking, he just nods his head. I know that he's saying yes without actually saying it, but for something this huge, this important, I need to hear him say it. "Clark, look at me."

He remains where he is, refusing to comply. He's not getting off that easy. I place my hands on either side of his face and turn him. Normally, I wouldn't be able to do that, but he's not fighting me. We're face to face, but he won't meet my eyes.

"Please, Clark." I'm practically begging him, but I don't care. I need him to look me in the eye and tell me. "Look at me."

Finally, his eyes meet mine. I'm searching his, trying to find any sign that he's not being honest. I see fear, but I don't see deception. "Tell me."

His voice is barely above a whisper, but I hear it as clearly as if he shouted. "I wanted you. For longer than I care to admit, I wanted you."

Something inside me breaks. I can feel tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes.

"But I couldn't have you, so I settled for Lois. I used her. I made her believe that I loved her. I didn't love her, though. I tried, for a while, but she didn't…she wasn't…you."

My vision is blurry from the unshed tears, but I'm still able to see the regret and self loathing in his eyes.

"When she found out my secret, I thought…I hoped she'd be as accepting as you. But she wasn't. I can still see the look of betrayal on her face when she saw me, really saw me."

His voice breaks with the emotion of the moment. "God, Chlo, the look she gave me… That's the look I'd feared getting from anyone who found out I wasn't normal, wasn't human. I felt like the biggest freak, like I was some hideous monster."

I'm trying so hard not to break down right now. I mean, I knew his break-up with Lois was bad, but I had no idea.

"But the worst part…the worst part was when she turned her back on me and walked away in disgust. At that moment, I didn't see Lois."

Even through my tear filled eyes, I can see he's fighting back his own tears as he says, "I saw you. In my mind, it was you who thought I was a freak. It was you who was disgusted by me."

With that, I'm finally broken. I begin to cry in earnest.

* * *

I don't know how it happened, but I'm being held by Clark. His arms are wrapped tightly around me, and I'm crying profusely with my face buried in his chest. I'm not sure, but I think he's crying too.

All of this pent up emotion is just pouring out of me. I don't know if it's because of what Clark told me, or about his dying, or both. I think it's more than any of that.

Despite the emotional breakdown that we both seem to be having, Clark manages to collect himself enough to continue his story.

He speaks softly, his face pressed into my hair. "After my confrontation with Lois, I was devastated. I wanted to run to you. I wanted your reassurance that I wasn't a monstrous freak. I needed to know that someone, _you_, still loved me, but…"

After taking a deep calming breath, he continues, "…but when I went to see you, you weren't alone. You were with Oliver. I didn't want to interrupt. I just stood there, watching. You were having dinner in Watchtower, and you looked so…so _happy_."

The word "happy" comes out as a strangled sob. "I couldn't remember when I'd seen you look so…_free_. It was like you didn't have a care in the world. You just kept smiling, and laughing. At that moment, you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. And it was because you weren't burdened by me. You had moved on, just like I wanted you to."

His words break my heart, and I press closer into him, hugging him tighter.

"After a long last look, I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran. I just ran. I must have circled the planet dozens, maybe even hundreds of times before I finally stopped. That's when it hit me, I was alone. I was completely alone."

"I tried to pull myself together. I went on patrols, lots of patrols. I spent every second of free time out trying to save people. After a while, I started spending more than just my free time. I ended up getting fired from the Daily Planet. Everything just fell apart. That's when the nightmares started."

My tears have abated, but I'm still clinging tightly to him as I listen to him tell the tale of how he came to end his life.

"I didn't need much sleep, and I rarely remember dreams I've had, but I could never forget what I saw in my nightmares. It was strange. I kept seeing the same thing, over and over again. It never changed. But the part that bothered me the most was that I'd experienced my nightmare before."

He's stopped talking. I wait for him to continue, but after a while, I realize that he's not going to.

Slowly, reluctantly, I pull back from our embrace and look at him. He looks haunted, lost. I feel awful for him, but I don't think anything I can say will help. I open and close my mouth several times, attempting to voice my concern, my support, but nothing comes out.

Thankfully, my inability to speak doesn't seem to bother him. He looks intensely at me, as if he's trying to glean something, some answer from me. It makes me feel self conscious, and I'm pretty sure he's not going to learn anything from his study of my tear streaked face.

Then he surprises me by standing up. He extends his hand to me, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I take it, and he pulls me easily to my feet. I'm curious about his intentions, but before I can ask him what he's thinking, he's leading me down the small hill toward the open expanse he'd been staring at when I first arrived.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer. He doesn't even look at me. He just keeps leading me out into the unknown.

I notice that he hasn't let go of my hand. I'm a little surprised he hasn't, but I don't mind. In fact, I'm glad for the once familiar contact. I give his hand a gentle squeeze and smile when he squeezes back.

I must have been lost in my own thoughts for a moment, because the landscape has changed, and I didn't notice immediately. What had been a beautiful clear and sunny day, has become dark and overcast.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and that feeling of dread I experienced back in the loft, is back in full force.

The atmosphere feels charged, and I move closer to Clark, trying to draw strength from him and seeking the comfort of being near him at the same time. He must sense my growing unease, because he draws me flush against his side and stops walking.

We stand motionless. I don't know what's going on, but it feels like we're waiting for something.

I tilt my head to look at him. His eyes are closed. "Clark?" My voice is small and unsure.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally turns to me, his eyes still shut. "Close your eyes."

I'm confused. Why do I need to close my eyes?

Apparently, he senses my confused hesitation. "Close your eyes, Chloe. Just trust me."

I do trust him. I trust him with my life. So, I trust him with this moment and close my eyes.

There's a loud crack of thunder overhead. It startles me, and I open my eyes in response.

A few minutes ago, we were standing in the middle of a never ending field of green grass. The grass is gone now. In its place is a sea of headstones that stretches further than my eyes can see.

"Clark, what is this place?"

I look into his now open eyes. His expression is grim, as is his voice when he speaks. "This is my worst nightmare. This is my future."

This? This unending graveyard is his future? "What do you mean, this is your future? Clark, there's nothing here but graves. How can this be your future?"

"Do you remember Cassandra Carver?"

That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place it.

"She was the old blind woman that I volunteered to read to at the nursing home."

Now I remember. "Wasn't she the one that could supposedly see the future?"

"There's no _supposedly_ about it. She _did _see the future." I can hear the conviction and belief in his voice. "You see, Cassandra was blinded during the first meteor shower. We both know that some people gained certain powers after being exposed to kryptonite. Cassandra was one of those people."

"She was able to see a glimpse of a person's future when she touched them. But only she could see these visions. When she touched me, she saw this."

"But if she was the only one who could see the visions, how do you know this is what she saw when she touched you?"

"Because I saw it too."

It sounds unbelievable that anyone could see into the future, but having lived in Smallville, and having an alien for a best friend kinda makes the impossible seem ordinary.

"If no one else could see the visions of their future, how did you see yours?"

"I don't know. Heck, even Cassandra didn't know. I think it's probably because I'm Kryptonian and not human. Things don't always work the same with me as they do with everyone else."

It makes sense. I wish it didn't, because I hate the thought that this really _is_ what's waiting for Clark.

We've both gone silent. The only sound is an occasional crack of thunder. Sporadic flashes of lightening are the only source of light in this foreboding place.

"This is what finally pushed me over the edge." His words startle me as much as the thunder.

I don't know if I'm supposed to say something. What do you say to someone who killed himself, when you're currently standing in the middle of the reason he did it?

"I've been told, several times, that I'll outlive everyone I love. Someone once told me, that I don't have an end that I go on forever. This place is the ultimate reminder of that."

I can't begin to fathom what it must be like to know that you're never going to die. To know that everyone you care about is going to grow old and die, leaving you alone, while you continue to live, never aging, must be overwhelming.

But then I'm reminded that he's not going to live forever. He's not even alive right now.

"Clark, why are you still here?"

My question doesn't seem to compute, because he gives me a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you killed yourself. I know for a fact that you're dead, because I tried to revive you and couldn't. So, since you're dead, why are you still here, in this place? For that matter, why am I here with you?"

My questions have him thinking hard. I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"I'm not sure." He says, finally. "The last thing I remember before being here is holding that piece of kryptonite to my chest and praying that it wouldn't take long for it all to be over. And I have no idea how you ended up here. No one has ever been here before except me, and even then, it was only in my nightmares."

As I mull over his last statement, a thought occurs to me. When the brain is in the dream state, some people believe that a person's consciousness is caught between the world of the living and the dead. Maybe that's what's happening here? Although, Clark's not really dreaming, he's dead. But he's also not human, and maybe because he's not, death doesn't work the same for him as it does for the rest of us.

I'm having a lot of profound thoughts, and none of them are really explaining the current situation. Then, out of nowhere, a line from a movie pops into my head.

"Clark, maybe you're not really dead."

"But you said that I was, and you said that you couldn't revive me."

Both good points, but I'm not deterred. "I know, but I think there's another possibility. Now, this is going to sound crazy, but just hear me out, OK?"

He holds his tongue and waits for me to continue. "What if you're only _mostly_ dead?"

After a few moments of contemplation, he surprises me by laughing in my face.

OK, even I know that what I'm suggesting borders on ludicrous, but I'm still a little hurt that he's laughing at me. Apparently, he sees my hurt and quiets down.

"I'm sorry, Chloe, I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just, The Princess Bride? Really?"

"Well, I don't see you coming up with any bright ideas." OK, that came out a little more indignantly than I'd like, but he laughed at me.

He must realize that he hurt my feelings, because he's completely serious now. "I really am sorry, Chloe. I guess it's not out of the realm of possibility that I could be mostly dead. Heck, we've both experienced stranger things."

I can tell he's trying to ease my hurt by going along with me, and I'm grateful. To show him there's no hard feelings, I give him a small smile.

"So, if I _am_ only mostly dead, what do we do about it? I mean, we don't exactly have a miracle pill with chocolate coating, do we?" He says with a smile of his own.

When I hear him say that, I almost burst out laughing myself. It does sound rather ridiculous, but like I said, it's all we've got.

Then I remember something that happened just before I woke up in this place.

"Clark, after I realized I couldn't save you, I felt completely drained. I wanted to just go to sleep. In fact, I couldn't keep my eyes open. But just before I lost consciousness, I saw this blinding white light."

He's rapt with attention as I continue. "I didn't just see the light, I think I felt it. It reminded me of the times I used my healing power on someone."

"Do you think you used your healing power on me?"

There's hope in my voice as I say, "I'm not positive, but what else could it have been?"

Doubt laces his words when he speaks. "But I thought you lost your power when Brainiac attacked you. Remember when I lost my powers and Oliver shot me through the heart with an arrow? You tried to heal me then, but you couldn't."

He makes a strong case against my theory, but I won't be deterred. "As I recall, I was still infected by Brainiac at the time. Maybe his presence inside my body somehow blocked me from using my ability."

"If that's true, then why haven't you been able to use your ability since?"

Again, he's got a point. "Well, maybe I just needed the right kind of motivation in order for it to work. I mean, finding you lying dead on the floor of the loft was a huge shock to my system. Maybe it was a big enough shock to jump-start my power."

A moment passes as he contemplates what I've said. I think I may have solved our dilemma, at least partially. But his next words shake my confidence.

"What about when Zod burned his symbol into Oliver's chest?" Damn. I'd forgotten about that. "You were pretty shaken up after that, but you weren't able to heal him."

It seems that every time I have a good idea, Clark has to go and poke holes in it. He is right though. I was very upset after Ollie was injured by Zod, but I didn't manifest my power then. I wonder if the shock just wasn't big enough. I mean, Ollie was only hurt, but Clark was dead.

Ollie. Strange, I haven't really thought about him since this whole thing began. Granted, I've been pretty preoccupied, not to mention stressed, but even now, I'm not really concerned about him. In fact, right now, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, like this is where I belong, here, with Clark.

Earlier, when he was holding me, I just had this amazing feeling of comfort and security. But then, I've always felt safe and secure in Clark's arms. Maybe I'm just being nostalgic, but being together again feels like coming home.

What does that say about me, that I'd rather be here with Clark, right now, than be back in bed with Ollie at his apartment?

I don't want to start questioning my feelings for either of them, but I can't help it. I'm totally confused right now.

I'm pulled from my ponderings when Clark cups my cheek in his hand. "Hey, are you alright?" His voice is soft and tinged with concern.

Our eyes meet, and we just stare. God, I forgot how beautiful his eyes are. They remind me of the sea after a storm. I feel like I could lose myself in those eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just kinda got lost in my thoughts for a minute." I don't know how I'm able to speak. There's something happening here, between us, and it's making me feel all fluttery in the tummy.

His thumb starts a gentle sweeping motion along the skin of my cheek, and my breath hitches.

"We'll figure this out."

Slowly, we move closer. There's electricity in the air, and it's not from the lightening. I can taste his breath, hot and sweet. "Yeah." My response is whispered against his lips.

The kiss is long and languorous. Our lips dance slow and sensual. There's a sweet tenderness with an underlying passionate need that just makes me feel all tingly from my head to the tips of my toes.

My hands slide up his arms and tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He continues to caress my cheek with his thumb, while his other arm wraps around my waist and pulls me flush against his body.

I lose myself in the moment, letting all of the fear, anxiety, and uncertainty of the past day, just melt away into nothing. There's nothing but this moment, this kiss. There's only me and Clark.

Then I feel it, that same feeling of something flowing through me. The longer we kiss, the stronger it gets. Reluctantly, I open my eyes, and I see a brilliant white light surrounding us.

I'm almost tempted to break our kiss, almost. Instead, I close my eyes and redouble my kissing efforts.

My mind tries to tell me that our kiss has somehow activated my power and that we're not long for this place. I scold my treacherous brain for attempting to ruin this moment by thinking. Now is not the time for thinking. Now is the time for feeling, being.

And for once, I do. I surrender completely to what's always been in my heart. I let my emotional walls crumble and lay my heart bare.

Love. Love is the key. Love is what makes the world go round. Love is the source of all power. Love is the source of _my_ power. My love for Clark is what's fueling me now. I feel as though I could drown in my love for him. It sweeps over me, crashes through me.

And suddenly, I _know_. I know why I'm here with Clark. There's more to healing than just repairing the body, fixing broken and torn bits of flesh. There's also the soul. When a bone is broken, you set it. When the flesh is torn, you stitch it back together. When the soul is consumed by malignant cancerous despair, you irradiate it with love.

The light is so bright now, even with my eyes closed, I can still see it. I know what the light is. The light is my love shining bright and pure. It envelopes us, consumes us.

The future can be a scary place, when forever is a dream turned nightmare. But nightmares are just dreams huddled in the dark. All they need is a little light to become dreams again.


End file.
